17. Gragash

17

GRAGASH

M y requests to see Abigail before the fight went unacknowledged. When I escalated them to demands, Vaher sighed and told me he'd see what he could do. There were, he said, bigger issues at play.

And now a motorized platform lifted me into the sunlight again, without me having a chance to say goodbye to my mate. It was enough to make me consider not cooperating with the slaver's plan, but that would just be a disaster for Abigail and the others.

So, snarling and frustrated, I stepped back out onto the arena sands. A roar of approval greeted me, people chanting my name. I gave it no attention, turning instead to the owners' box to look for my mate.

Sure enough, there she was, at Captain Vaher's side. He lounged comfortably in his chair, utterly at ease with the world. But Abigail? I'd expected grief or anger if she knew the plan, hope if she did not. Instead, her eyes were full of determination, a hardness I'd not known she had in her.

A shame I would never get to appreciate it close up. Behind me, the second hatch opened, a platform rising slowly, bearing a Drall warrior into view. He was huge, muscular even by that species' standards, and even on all fours, he stood as tall as me. Korsar.

The Guild champion wore little more than a leather harness, showing off intricate Guild tattoos. No weapons, but his claws and teeth were weapon enough. He stepped off the platform, he moved with a grace I'd only seen on the most skilled of fighters.

The Guildfather was worried I'd beat this? I snorted and shook my head. Could have saved himself the trouble of fixing the fight. I'm not sure how I'd go about winning if I tried.

The announcer was still listing victories, whether mine or my opponents I didn't care. I turned back to offer what farewells I could from this distance, catching Abigail's eye.

She shook her head, mouthing a single word clearly. Win.

I frowned, and she repeated herself emphatically. My frown deepened. Does she know the danger she's in? What will happen to us all if I defeat that beast?

Every fiber of my being cried out to trust my mate. But, if she didn't have all the facts, she couldn't know the right course to take.

What if she had information I didn't? Doubt paralyzed me, doubt and frustration. Abigail obviously shared that—even at this distance, I recognized her frustrated eye roll for what it was. As discretely as possible, she gestured to Captain Vaher.

No, past him, to a figure almost invisible in the shadows behind him. Jarchess! They'd brought her up as well. I suppose it made sense to let her watch the fight that would win her freedom, and in her place, I'd have done the same.

Except I'd plan on joining in the fight as soon as possible. My sister showed no signs of leaping into action. Good. It would suck to fight for her freedom, only for her to die in the brawl. But something still felt wrong. Jarchess didn't seem happy at her impending freedom, or sad at my immanent demise. She looked angry.

As though we were being cheated…

"The Guildfather sends his regards." Korsar's rumble pulled me out of my thoughts. Technically, it might qualify as a whisper, if one was generous or deaf. "Make it good and I promise, the end will be quick and painless. I don't mind if you get a couple of good hits in first, make the thing look real."

The consummate professional. I choked down the impulse to laugh. Here he was, talking as though I was a colleague, when he was planning on ending my life. He wouldn't be rude about it, though.

It made my decision easier, at least. The Drall, no less than the Guildfather, saw lives as mere bargaining chips. My lips curled in what my enemy probably thought was a smile, and I nodded.

"No hard feelings," I said. "If we're going to do this, let's do it as professionals."

Korsar raised a forelimb, offering it to me. Taking his hand in mine, I shook it once, hard.

I will bathe in your rancid blood, Drall. And offer your still-beating heart to my mate.